When Hoopoes Go to Heaven

by Gaile Parkin

  Benedict had helped Mama to draw a simpler, less detailed version of the picture on the coin, and together they had cut it out of the sugar-paste and stuck it on to the top of the cake. Then Mama had cut out sugar-paste numbers that said 20, and letters that said years instead of cents. That was because the ladies of Zodwa’s inhlangano, their savings society, had been meeting for twenty years, and the special meeting to celebrate the twenty years was going to be at Zodwa’s house that weekend.

  Zodwa had told Mama that the twelve ladies in the inhlangano met once a month to support one another, and every month each one of them put the same amount of money into the group’s savings. Then they took turns for everybody’s money to come to one of them so that once a year each of them got a turn to get a big sum of money. It was a way of ladies helping one another when the banks didn’t take them seriously.

  The last step in getting the cake ready had been the most exciting, on account of Mama getting the chance to use something new for the first time ever. Auntie Rachel had told Mama about a shop over the border in Nelspruit that sold everything you could possibly need for making and decorating cakes. Imagine! And there was a lady in Mbabane who made regular trips to a clinic in Nelspruit, taking ladies and girls who had got into trouble and needed to go to South Africa where there wasn’t a law against helping them. Auntie Rachel often gave that lady some money and a list for buying vegetarian things, so she knew that Mama could give her some money and a list for buying cake things.

  Using one of the children’s paintbrushes, Mama had dusted very lightly over the whole cake with her brand new Dusting Powder (Silver). Eh! Now the cake looked just like a shiny new coin!

  Benedict knew that Mama didn’t like a cake to have just one colour, but silver was a very special colour for a cake to have, unlike white, which was Mama’s worst single colour. And besides, there were three more colours inside the silver. Zodwa and her inhlangano ladies were going to love it!

  Sifiso was nervous during their presentation. Knowing that he would be, he had written some notes on a piece of paper, but holding it made his shaking more obvious.

  Standing next to him at the front, Benedict watched the class. Giveness was listening carefully, even though he had heard the presentation already during break while they had practised it. But Giveness seemed to be holding his breath.

  Some of the boys near the back were listening carefully, too. Benedict knew he could quiz them on what Sifiso was saying and they would get zero because they were only waiting to hear a lisp that they could laugh at. They were going to be disappointed. Some of the girls were paying attention, and one or two even seemed to be writing down some of what Sifiso was saying.

  Then it was Benedict’s turn. He propped his poster on top of Miss Khumalo’s table, and with Sifiso holding one side of it and Giveness the other, he pointed with his ruler to each stage of the life cycle as he explained it. When he indicated the dotted line arcing from the man into the water he heard somebody near the back whisper the word pipi, then some others laughed. And all the girls made faces when he talked about the worms inside the man and inside the child.

  Sifiso had dropped a bit of red icing from his purple cupcake onto the board during break, so the eggs hatching inside the snail were a bit greasy, but nobody seemed to notice.

  When he finished, everybody clapped for both of them. Eh! Benedict felt himself smiling all the way up to home time.

  On the way to the high school, he took his poster into Mr Patel’s shop to show Mrs Patel what he had done with her old cardboard box. She was busy serving customers, spooning bright orange curry into plastic containers and filling paper bags with chips and big, fat sausages called Russians.

  Indian people weren’t like Christian people who had just one God who had to do everything for everybody. No. They had lots of gods, each with their own work. Some of them even had lots of arms and hands so that they could do lots of work at the same time.

  Of all the gods on Mr Patel’s walls, Benedict liked Ganesh the best. Ganesh was a man with the head of an elephant, and his job was to move away the things that were standing in your way of getting something done. He had his big, strong trunk and four arms to help him to move things, so there wasn’t really anything he couldn’t manage. Benedict wondered if the king’s mother, the Great She Elephant Indlovukati, was as strong as Ganesh. Perhaps they knew each other, or were even family.

  While he waited for Mrs Patel, Benedict looked carefully at the picture of the god called Krishna. He could see at once why Petros had chosen that name for his golden-brown dog. Dressed in a softly draped gold trouser and a matching sleeveless jacket, Krishna wore white beads around his ankles and a long necklace of pink and white flowers as he held up a golden flute, just about to play it. He had only two arms, and unlike the other gods on Mr Patel’s walls, his skin was blue. Eh, his face was so beautiful! Beneath a golden headdress decorated with a feather from a peacock’s tail, his eyes were ringed with black – just like Petros’s dog – his lips the colour of Mama’s when she wore her lipstick for going out. A cow rested at his feet.

  How Mama would love all those colours!

  When Mrs Patel was ready to look, she was just like the girls in Benedict’s class: she didn’t like the worms on his poster. She thought it was best for the worms not to be in the shop with her food, but she thanked him for showing her and gave him three chips, telling him he should continue to be a good boy at school.

  ‘Don’t be doing any nonsense,’ she told him.

  Benedict began to nod then changed his nod to a shake on account of nonsense not being something to nod about.

  ‘Nonsense is deadly bad.’ Mrs Patel wiped grease from the counter-top with a cloth as Benedict changed his shake to a nod. ‘Nonsense can make your father send you away, isn’t it?’

  Benedict didn’t know what to do with his head now, but he was sure that keeping it still might make him look like he wasn’t listening, and it would be rude not to listen to somebody who had just given him some chips as a gift. He felt that what his head was doing must make him look like one of the Indian men who used to work with Baba at his old job in Kigali. That man’s head had bobbed this way and that on his neck, never quite showing whether he thought what somebody was saying was right or wrong.

  Mrs Patel continued. ‘That can break a mother’s heart, isn’t it? Break it!’ As she slapped the damp cloth down on the counter, her eyes began to blink very quickly. Reaching for a paper serviette with one hand, she nodded towards his poster and waved the back of her other hand towards the door. ‘Go, go.’

  Outside, Benedict gave the three chips to his brothers and Olga Mazibuko, and the children continued on their walk. Right now, Mrs Patel was probably using that paper serviette to wipe her eyes, just as she had done when he had been there with Mama. But that had been right before Mrs Patel and Mama had become confidential, so he knew it wouldn’t have been right to ask anything or say anything. Anyway, Mrs Patel would probably have said it was just onions, which he knew from Titi could make a person’s eyes red and very wet.

  He thought carefully about what Mrs Patel had said. He didn’t really know what doing nonsense meant, but he didn’t want Baba sending him away for doing it, and he didn’t want Mama’s heart to break because he’d been sent away for doing it. He would have to be careful not to do it, not even by mistake.

  The yellow Hi-Ace was already at the high school when they got there, but it was locked and Auntie Rachel was nowhere to be seen, so they waited in the shade of the thorn tree. When the high-school children came out, Vusi Mazibuko told them that Auntie Rachel and his sister Innocence were in the office with Mr Magagula, on account of Innocence being in trouble. He wasn’t sure why, but Elias Gamedze and Obed Fakudze from her class were in there with her.

  They waited for a long time. The ladies selling mealies and bunny-chow left, classrooms were cleaned, windows were closed, teachers went home, and still Auntie Rachel and Innocence didn’t come.

&n
bsp; Then Daniel and Moses needed the toilet, and Vusi told Benedict where to take them. Leaving his poster and their schoolbags with Grace, he led his brothers in through the school gate and round to the block of toilets at the far end of the school.

  While he waited for them outside the toilets, a classroom door opened and a girl came out, the same girl who had saved the spider. Hauling her schoolbag onto her back, she headed quickly towards the school gate. Benedict was still thinking about whether or not he should try to catch up with her and talk to her about spiders, when a teacher came out of the same classroom, putting on his jacket. He seemed angry when he caught sight of Benedict.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked in a big, booming voice.

  Benedict suddenly felt very small. He lowered his eyes respectfully. ‘I brought my brothers to the toilet, sir.’

  Moses and Daniel emerged.

  ‘Hah!’ said the teacher, straightening his tie and buttoning his jacket. ‘These toilets are for big boys only, nè?’

  Looking down, all three boys nodded.

  ‘I don’t want to see you here again.’

  They all shook their heads.

  ‘Very good.’ Turning on his heel, the teacher walked away.

  Benedict hoped that the spider-girl would be at the gate and he could show her his bilharzia poster, but she was nowhere to be seen. At last Auntie Rachel came out of the office with Innocence. She gave Innocence a tissue from her handbag and wrapped her in a very big hug. Behind them Elias Gamedze emerged with his father, Elias looking frightened, Mr Gamedze furious.

  ‘Eish, there’ll be a beating tonight,’ said Vusi.

  Benedict was shocked. ‘Auntie Rachel?’

  ‘Ngeke! Never! Gamedze.’

  Obed Fakudze didn’t come out, but sounds of shouting came from Mr Magagula’s office.

  Her arm around Innocence, Auntie Rachel hurried towards the yellow Hi-Ace, handing her keys to Vusi so he could open for them.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry!’ she said, and as everybody got in she made calls to Mrs Levine and Mama on her cell-phone to say they were going to be home a bit late.

  On the way down the hill, nobody spoke. Auntie Rachel didn’t seem angry, but Innocence was upset and sniffed loudly. Benedict was finding it difficult to know what everybody was thinking, but on the whole he felt it would probably be best not to say that his and Sifiso’s presentation had gone well.

  It wasn’t until a man tried to flag them down and Innocence shouted, ‘We’re not a bloody taxi!’ that everybody laughed and began to chatter. And it wasn’t until the yellow Hi-Ace pulled into the garage and the Quick Impact Corolla was there that Benedict remembered the Ubuntu Funerals van being there a few days earlier, and that made him remember his idea for their edge.

  ‘Eh, I’m sorry,’ said Mama, greeting him at the front door and taking his poster from him. ‘Uh-uh. Jabulani already knew about those caskets from Ghana. He loves them but a tradition like that cannot work here. Zodwa says it’s a kwerekwere tradition, it’s un-Swazi.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘And besides, people here cannot afford.’

  Benedict felt disappointed. He had so wanted his idea to be good! He had wanted it to be a nice thank-you gift for Jabulani, for spending all that time on the casket for his hoopoe. He had wanted it to make Jabulani and Zodwa dance with happiness and send lots of customers to Mama as a reward for all the customers the edge was going to bring them.

  But now he would still have to find another way to help Mama.

  ‘My friend!’ Henry came out of the kitchen with a mug of tea in each hand. They greeted each other warmly, though the mugs of tea meant they weren’t able to shake. Henry stepped aside to let Benedict pass. ‘Titi has more, nè?’

  In the kitchen, Titi was still filling mugs with spicy, milky tea from the milk saucepan.

  ‘Eh, you came late today!’

  ‘Mm. Because of Innocence.’

  ‘Innocence?’ Titi put the empty saucepan in the sink and began filling it with water. ‘Innocence at the other house?’

  ‘Mm. She got into trouble. With two boys.’

  ‘Eh!’ Titi’s eyes were big. ‘Two?’

  ‘Mm.’ Benedict picked up two of the mugs, looking forward to the warm, milky spiciness.

  Titi’s eyebrows seemed to be struggling to meet across the top of her nose. ‘What’s going to happen?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged as best he could with the mugs of tea in his hands. ‘Maybe she can go with that lady to Nelspruit.’

  ‘Eh!’ Her eyes still big, Titi covered her mouth with a hand.

  ‘Come, come, come!’ Henry was in the kitchen now, picking up two more mugs. ‘Let us tuck in to the tasty plate of fruit that Titi has prepared for us so beautifully!’ He winked at Titi, who dropped her hand from her mouth and smiled shyly as she turned off the tap.

  Benedict was glad that Henry was there. He needed somebody to speak to him like he was big and not the little boy the teacher at the high school had spoken to. The tea and the fruit would soon make him put away the disappointment about his idea not being good, and when he told everybody about the success of his and Sifiso’s bilharzia presentation, his smile would quickly come back.

  After supper that evening, Benedict sat on his cushion under the lamp and looked for Sheba in the encyclopaedias, hoping to find out whose breasts they were on Mr Quartermain’s map. Neither the Kalukawe River nor the Lukanga River had been in the atlas, but maybe their names had changed, like Allister Miller Street in Mbabane changing its name to Gwamile Street on account of it no longer being more important to remember a Mzungu from the time of Swaziland’s gold rush than to remember King Mswati III’s great grandmother. Even his own country had changed its name, from Tanganyika back in the old days to Tanzania now.

  The encyclopaedia said that Sheba was a queen back in the days of the Bible, and she brought King Solomon lots of gold as a gift. It also said that some people called Rabbinicals knew that King Solomon invited Sheba to visit him by sending a bird to her with a letter tied to its leg. The bird was a hoopoe.

  Eh!

  Benedict could feel his heart beginning to skip with excitement.

  Then it said that people in Ethiopia knew that Sheba and King Solomon had been in love and their children and their children’s children had ruled Ethiopia until 1974.

  Benedict was confused. There was a lot about King Solomon under Sheba, but he didn’t remember reading about Sheba under King Solomon. He paged forward until he found Solomon again. There, at the end, it said See also Sheba, Queen of. Back at the end of Sheba, he found See also Solomon, King, and See also Selassie, Haile.

  He was paging back to Selassie, Haile when Mama’s cellphone rang, interrupting the background murmur of her conversation with Baba at the dining table. Baba shouted for the TV to be turned down.

  Benedict couldn’t concentrate on Haile Selassie being Emperor of Ethiopia, on account of Mama’s voice sounding strange.

  ‘Eh?... What?... Uh-uh-uh!... Mm-mm... Eh!... No!... Uh-uh... Of course... Yes... Mm... Immediately... Yes.’

  Putting her phone down on the table, Mama took off her glasses and buried her face in her hands for a few seconds while Baba asked her over and over what was wrong. Benedict wondered if he should get up from his cushion and go to her.

  She looked up and put her glasses back on. ‘Benedict,’ she said, in a voice that made him feel suddenly cold, ‘come here, please.’

  Instantly he knew he had done something wrong. But what? He cast his mind back desperately over the day. But there was nothing. Unless... Could that teacher have complained about small boys using the high school toilets?

  ‘And Titi,’ said Mama more loudly above the noise of the TV that the other children were turning up because it wasn’t them in trouble.

  Titi rose from the couch and looked at Benedict with big eyes full of questions. He gave her the tiniest shrug, and together they went and sat nervously at the dining table.

  Mama looked
at them, shaking her head. ‘I’m so disappointed in you,’ she said, and immediately tears began to prick at the back of Benedict’s eyes.

  Mama looked at Baba.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, uncertainly.

  ‘Gossip,’ said Mama, ‘is a very bad thing.’

  Gossip?

  ‘Yes,’ said Baba again.

  ‘And to gossip about a child! Eh!’

  ‘Eh!’ Baba agreed.

  ‘More especially, that kind of gossip.’ Mama took off her glasses, reached down through her neckline for a tissue, and began to polish the lenses, shaking her head sadly.

  Benedict and Titi gave each other a quick look that said neither of them knew what they had said about which child. Baba looked just as confused.

  ‘Angel, perhaps if you—’

  ‘Pius, these two have been gossiping.’ Mama put her glasses back on. ‘They’ve been telling everybody that two boys have impregnated Innocence Mazibuko!’

  What?

  ‘No, Mama!’

  ‘No? Then why did Mavis at the other house shout at Innocence for getting pregnant at less than fourteen years just like she had done herself? Innocence went to Rachel in tears, and Rachel found out from Mavis that Titi had told her and Lungi, and it was Benedict who told Titi.’

  Baba made tutting noises against the back of his teeth.

  Benedict was very confused. ‘I never said she was pregnant.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Titi. ‘You said she would go to Nelspruit with that lady.’

  ‘Only because she’s in trouble,’ said Benedict. ‘She got into trouble at school with Elias Gamedze and Obed Fakudze. Her brother Vusi said she was in trouble. When girls are in trouble that lady takes them to Nelspruit.’

  ‘Eh!’ Titi covered her mouth with both hands.

  ‘Eh!’ Mama covered her mouth with her tissue.

  ‘Eh!’ Baba got up and went to sit on the couch, even though it wasn’t yet news.

  Mama explained to Benedict about different kinds of trouble, and about being in trouble being a way of saying pregnant. He asked her if his first mama had been in trouble with him, but Mama said no, there was another way of saying pregnant and that was being blessed, and it just depended. He wasn’t quite sure what it depended on, but he nodded when Mama asked him if he understood. He was just so relieved that he had misunderstood rather than gossiping, which he knew to be a bad thing.